


fairytales got nothing on us, babe

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: In another week, Raven will officially be given all power. Until then, she mourns.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this gifset](http://likcoln.tumblr.com/post/145173741328/ice-mechanic-au-king-roans-reign-over-azgeda).

The widowed queen paces the throne room alone, one two three four five six twirl, constantly moving to keep from falling. She’s worn the same flowing red dress for over a week, the color of blood and mourning a beautiful contrast against her warm brown skin since the day of her husband’s pyre. In another week, according to tradition and her most trusted advisor, she will officially ascend to the throne in her own right. Until then, she’s got plenty of thoughts to drown in.

Raven kom Azgeda may have been born an outsider, but she’s given over a decade of her life to the clan she now calls her own. She’s earned her place on her own terms, not just as a treaty queen. She’s not ready to face this on her own, but she’s got no real choice in the matter.

Over a decade with her love before he was taken from her. More time than most of the people she knows got. Nowhere near enough.

* * *

 

“I’ll do it,” Raven says. She’s twenty, headstrong, and plays by no rules but her own. Her presence at council meetings is still new, her position only temporary until a proper replacement can be selected for Sinclair’s old place, and-

“You don’t have to,” Abby counters. “You’re valuable here, Raven. They don’t expect quite that much of a sacrifice.”

“Good, because that’s not how I see it.” Raven’s got about half of a plan now, and building fast. “I’m giving myself as a token of faith. Does that sound enough like political bullshit to be acceptable?”

No one really has anything to say after that. What Raven wants, Raven gets. And if what Raven genuinely wants is a political marriage and a separation from everything she’s known up to this point, no one’s brave or stupid enough to question her on it. Her life, her choices, her loss. Just like always.

* * *

The one problem with Raven’s brilliant plan - there’s always a problem somewhere, but rarely on this scale - is she assumes she’ll be paired to someone on about her level. She’s proved wrong three days later, when the Azgedan delegation descends on Arkadia and the terms of the situation are fully laid out.

Instead of being pawned off on some lesser diplomat as she’d assumed would be the case, Raven is to become a queen. Freaking awesome.

After a longwinded explanation by several people whom Raven highly doubts have _any_  idea what they just signed up for, she’s left alone with her soon-to-be-husband to get acquainted. This, Raven can deal with. She’s not so sure of Roan as a _person_ , but her eyes work fine and the man is objectively gorgeous. Hey, at least she’s gonna get regular sex out of this. She could do so much worse.

“You’re not what I expected,” Roan says as the door shuts on the sterile Arkadian conference room.

“You wanted prettier?”

“I’m not sure at what point you checked out during the conversation about arrangements and logistics, but... your people speak very highly of you, Lady Raven. They say you are quite skilled with your hands. And yet you want to leave them. Why?”

“Big world out there,” Raven shrugs. “Maybe I just wanna see more of it.”

* * *

In classic diplomatic-bullshit fashion, there are two wedding ceremonies. The first, held in Arkadia the day before the delegation departs with Raven in tow, is the most stressful hour of her life. No, more like six hours - her friends and acquaintances decide she needs a proper sendoff, and there’s a party afterwards. Alcohol flows as quickly as words, and by the time she finally gets away from everyone, she’s  _exhausted_  like she hasn’t consciously been in years.

She leans her back against a metal wall, glad to be alone, and then suddenly she isn’t anymore. Roan’s beauty is softer in firelight, and Raven doubts she’ll have any trouble getting used to seeing it constantly.

“You won’t be able to run like this next time,” he murmurs, moving to stand next to her but not even reaching for her hand. “They’ll be too curious about you. It might last days.”

“And if they’re disappointed?”

“They won’t be.” There’s a certain confidence in Roan’s voice, suspiciously like an actual _feeling_. “I’ve seen some of your work, Raven, and you’ve already saved the world once. If anything, my people will love you.”

“And what do you think of me?”

“I think you’re beautiful and more than anyone’s ever seen.”

Raven reaches out and entwines her fingers with him. “Great, you’re a badass _and_  a romantic.”

“Just saying what I see. Problem?”

“Nope.”

* * *

And sure enough, wedding ceremony number two is  _stressful_ . Not just because of the cultural disconnect or the language barrier, although those suck too, but because approximately five seconds after Raven officially becomes a queen, the weight of everything she’s done recently crashes upon her and oh. hell. no.

“I need air,” she whispers to Roan. He’s growing on her as a person - he was a perfect gentleman on the several-day trip up here, he’s got latent caretaker instincts that she just might fall in love with someday, and most importantly, she trusts him enough to ask him for a way out.

“Can you get through a few more minutes here?” he murmurs, clearly worried and not hiding it anywhere near as well as he thinks.

“Probably. Why?”

“If we depart after a few more formalities, everyone will just think we were especially excited to... consummate the marriage.”

And make that one more thing Raven can’t handle right now. “If you have _any_  expectations on that front, I will kill you. Are we clear?”

“Completely. The only thing I ask is that, for the sake of preventing rumors, it’s best if we sleep in the same room tonight. But there’s a lovely chair in your room - you haven’t seen that, I don’t think, I’m not sure - and I will be fine and-”

Despite her current mental state, Raven laughs. “You’re nervous around me. I like that.”

* * *

After that, well... after that, Raven’s life calms down a bit.

Sure, she’s constantly being exposed to new things and some of the cultural quirks are just _weird_ , but as an outsider, she’s more than allowed to think that and even say so on occasion. As the treaty queen, as most people call her, she gets a previously unknown amount of freedom. And oh how she intends to use it. She asks questions about infrastructure and is eventually introduced to an eclectic group of people who, under her vague guidance, have the potential to bring the city back to its former glory.

The ridiculous amount of walking sucks, but she deals.

And really, it’s not like this marriage thing is all that bad either. She’s not expected to deal with Roan all that much, just play arm candy at the right times. But over time, she starts to actually _like_  him. If nothing else, she figures, she needs a friend in this zoo and her options kinda suck to begin with and everyone else is vaguely scared of her. Roan, on the other hand...

Well...

“Do you actually like me?” Raven asks one afternoon about six months into her marriage. She’s taken to pestering her husband when she knows he’s busy reading reports or something equally boring, and the little chats that result are the highlight of her week (though she’ll never actually admit that to anyone). She likes being treated as an equal, not some goddess who fell from the sky like she’s pretty sure half of Azgeda thinks she is - most of ‘em still don’t like Skaikru as a whole, but they’ve collectively decided Queen Raven is an exception and she’s thankful for it but goddamn sometimes it’s overwhelming and-

“Why do you ask?” Roan replies after several heartbeats too long.

“Because I can’t fucking tell, and... I just wanna know, okay? Is that enough of a reason?”

Fluidly, in that graceful catlike way of his that should not be anywhere near as hot as she thinks it is, he closes the space between them and gently kisses her. From what little Raven’s been able to figure out, Roan’s not keen on physical affection, and that plus his ridiculous concept of boundaries with her means she’s lucky if they even hold hands as a public display. But this... this is want, pure and simple, and she’s here for it.

Before he can give some kind of justification, she loops her arms around his neck and pulls him down for a much more desperate liplock.

“What was that?” he murmurs when they break apart just enough to breathe.

“Finally found the right moment,” Raven laughs.

* * *

Years pass. Lives are formed. Love blossoms. Raven thrives.

She will always be defined as the treaty queen, simply because it was the first title her people gave her, but she gains their trust and loyalty. Under her guidance and careful planning, windmill generators bring the city a little closer to the glory it might have had before the bombs fell. A scientist in a culture used to valuing warriors, Raven occasionally has to fight to be heard and obeyed, but as time passes, it becomes easier.

Easier still is her domestic life, a warm blanket of a thing that wraps around her and makes her feel safe. Slowly, she falls in love with Roan. He falls much faster, but grants her space to decide her feelings on her own terms. He worships the ground she walks on but expects nothing in return, and it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever known.

A little less than a year into their arrangement, Raven slips into her partner’s bedroom late at night. The door between their separate spaces has merely collected dust until now, but she’s feeling lonely and wants more than their occasional stolen kisses. She wants everything, all at once, desperate and-

Before her husband has the chance to fully process the intruder, she speaks. “Just me. That okay?”

“What do you need?” he asks, almost playful.

“Too much space in my bed,” Raven laughs. “Mind if I curl up here instead?”

Roan makes space for her and helps her find a comfortable position beside him. “What else do you want, darling?”

“Everything.”

He shifts to cover her and kiss her, and she knows in her heart that she will never again feel lonely as long as she has this.

* * *

But all love stories end somewhere. This one, ten and a half years after it began, on a hunting trip on which the king is shot by mistake by a close friend with bad eyesight and worse aim. It’s an accidental death in the purest sense, but still a tragedy.

Upon hearing that her lover is no more, that he died before anything could be done, the queen sheds her ice blue gown in favor of the deep red mourning dress that has sat at the back of her wardrobe since shortly after she took her current title. She knew this day would come, and she is thankful the circumstances are so benign, but that does not lessen the pain.

In another week, Queen Raven will officially be given all power over her people. Until then, she mourns.


End file.
